The Power of Change
by Gabriel Gatsby
Summary: It's an unlikely pairing, but Hermione finds Draco isn't quite what she remembered him to be from before the War.


Hermione fidgeted nervously outside the Roussillon as she awaited her date's arrival. A chilly breeze threatened to raise her skirt at any moment, and she shivered from the cold, but she refused to go in without him. This had been his idea after all, and so she was damn well not going anywhere until he turned up.

_But where the hell is he_, she wondered, glancing up and down the long street for about the millionth time that night, and tugging impatiently on her billowing skirt.

* * *

Draco almost tripped as he rounded another corner, his breath coming fast as he attempted to check his watch without slowing down. He was almost there, but he was already fifteen minutes late. What if she'd already left? What if he'd blown his only chance? It had taken him months to work up the courage to finally ask Hermione out, and to think that he was now late for their very first date. The thought gave him a renewed burst of energy, and he picked up his pace once more.

* * *

"I am- _so_ sorry!" an extremely out-of-breath Draco Malfoy panted as he came to a stop before her. His face was red from the exertion of running, and his blond hair flopped about his face. He leaned forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He was wearing what looked like what could have been a perfectly respectable suit at the time he put it on, but it was now as crumpled as a bedsheet, and his tie hung loosely about his neck.

Looking up, his silver eyes seemed to beg forgiveness, and Hermione couldn't help herself. This certainly was _not_ the Draco Malfoy she remembered from school, but quite frankly, she liked this one much better.

Letting out a genuine laugh, she removed her wand from her purse and contemplated where to start.

"Oh, you don't have to-" Draco began, but she cut him off with a flick of her wand.

"Yes," she said, smiling good-humouredly, "yes, I really do."

* * *

Draco tried to keep still as Hermione worked her magic on him, and soon enough, found that his shoes were shined, his suit was pressed, and his hair was slicked back to perfection. Almost as an afterthought, it seemed, Hermione also cast a quick cooling charm over his still burning cheeks and he smiled gratefully at her.

"Thank you, and sorry- again," he quickly added, aware of the fact he was apologising far too much, but not knowing what else he could do to convince her of how much of a complete _arse_ he felt right now.

"You're welcome," was all she said in return as she admired her handiwork. She must have been satisfied, because suddenly she looked back up to his face and a warm smile lit up her eyes.

"Well then. Shall we?" she asked, offering him her arm and turning towards the entrance to the restaurant. "I'm cold, and hungry, and I think _someone_ has some making up to do."

Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she said it, but Draco was only too happy to agree.

As he took her arm and they passed beneath the great neon sign, he smiled to himself. The Hermione he remembered from school certainly never would have sugar-coated something to make him feel better, and he was glad to find this one wouldn't either.

* * *

"Ermm… I think I'll have- the beef bourguignon, please." Hermione decided after running her finger down the menu twice. Folding it, she handed it back to the waiter who then turned to Draco.

"And for you, monsieur?" he asked, and Hermione waited patiently while he made his choice.

"The chicken fricassee, please," he finally said, also handing his menu back.

"And for drinks?" Draco looked up at her at that, as though to ask permission, and she found herself nodding her approval. Turning back to the waiter, Draco addressed them with a thin-lipped smile.

"A bottle of your house red," was his simple order. When the waiter had gone, she raised a quizzical brow at him.

"Red, Draco, with chicken? I thought you were raised better than that." It came out more of a jibe than she intended, but he didn't seem to take any offence. Another stark contrast to the irritable boy she remembered from school.

He shrugged. "You're having beef, and I thought a bottle _each_ might be a bit much for our first date."

_Considerate, too?_ She thought to herself. The list of changes was growing by the second.

* * *

Draco swilled the wine around his glass when it arrived, before taking a sip. It was good wine, for a small down-town restaurant like this. In truth, that's why he'd invited her here. Flashy wasn't really his style in the same way it had been his parents', and if the Hermione he knew from school was anything to go by, it wasn't hers either. This restaurant was one he'd discovered a few years previous. Small, family-owned, but real French recipes, and good wine.

"Mmm," Hermione hummed across the table, and he looked up to find that she, too, had her glass in hand. "This is good wine."

Draco smiled, and he didn't miss the flicker of surprise that danced across her face, although it lasted but a moment. He wondered briefly how long it had been since they'd last seen each other. Of course, he'd heard of her many feats and accomplishments in the name of the Ministry and various magical creature rights campaigns, but he couldn't imagine that she had heard anything of him.

Having started up a small private practise and settled down for a quiet life, there wasn't much to hear about. As though she'd read his thoughts, Hermione chose that moment to speak up.

"So, _Draco_," she seemed to add extra emphasis to his name, and he found he liked the sound of it on her lips, "what have you been up to all these years?"

* * *

Hermione sat back in her chair as she creased with laughter.

"Seriously?" she chuckled, "And he never thought to just ask you?"

"Not once," Draco affirmed. "All that time and it was just sat there in my back garden."

She snorted and dabbed at her teary eyes with the napkin from her lap. The wine had left her feeling a little light-headed, but the food had been amazing and if she were to be completely honest, she was actually having a really great time. As she reflected on this, she glanced up at Draco and their eyes met over their empty dishes.

Suddenly serious, she gave him a small, genuine smile, and said quietly,

"You've changed, Draco Malfoy."

At first he looked surprised, and lowered his eyes thoughtfully, but soon he was nodding his head in understanding. Glancing back up, he locked his gaze onto hers, and said in reply,

"You haven't."

"Funny, that," she added. Then he smirked, a characteristic, smarmy, _Malfoy_ smirk, and she couldn't help but laugh at the deliberate contradiction.

"Yep – still the same know-it-all, clever-clogs from all those years ago. What's it been now, seven awards for helping those less fortunate?"

Hermione threw her napkin at him, and he laughed. A carefree, open laugh that a younger Hermione would never have expected him to be capable of.

"Oh! You have about as much charm as a _flobberworm_! It's a wonder I came on a date with you at all," she cried, but she smiled as she said it, and he smiled back.

"But I'm glad you did," he said in earnest, and she found herself unable to disagree. It might have seemed an odd choice to some, to meet up with an ex-school mate who she hadn't gotten along with even then, but when Hermione had received Draco's invitation by owl, it wasn't simple curiosity that had driven her to accept.

It was a firm belief that people could _change_. And looking up at the man before her, she found the strongest proof of this that she had ever known.

* * *

_Written for: 'The Quiddich League Fanfiction Competition'. Prompts: (word) change, (setting) restaurant, (dialogue) "You have about as much charm as a flobberworm", (pairing) Dramione_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

_CC cover image (entitled 'red wine') courtesy of bambe1964 on Flickr._

* * *

**A/N:** I know, it sucks. If it helps at all he was _meant _to be OOC because he's changed? (Lame excuse for poor writing, hands up). Thanks for reading anyway! GG x


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